A Guide on Travel Through Time & School
by madmanwithashockblanket
Summary: High school AU in which the 11th Doctor (as John Smith) is the hopelessly lost new student. He meets a mysterious girl named Melody, tries to make friends, and juggles a school life with a horrible one at an orphanage where he takes care of a girl named Jenny. Revolves mainly around the Doctor and River, but many companions will show up along the way. Rating may go up further in.
1. Chapter 1

John stood at the front door of the school, staring uneasily past the glass. It was a whole different world in there – a world with learning, and community, and diversity. He wasn't used to something like that. In fact, he was only a tyke when his parents passed away and he was placed in an orphanage. With one step, he could get away from his life of suffering and loss and replace it with inspiration and brilliance.

John inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, and pinched his cheek. When he looked again, he was still in the same spot before the school. John couldn't help it; this idea of a school had always been so surreal to him. The headmistress of the orphanage, Greta, was a nasty woman who had refused him an education. So, John had taught himself at the library. Now here he was, standing at a high school and going in as a freshman even though he was a year younger.

John burst through the doors, an eager smile on his face and a spring in his step. Immediately after he winked at the security camera (winking was _cool_,he'd been told), he tripped. He heard someone snicker beside him. John flushed and gathered his binders before hurrying into the office.

"Hello," a plump woman with curly grey hair greeted him. "You must be John Smith, the boy from the orphanage."

"Well, yes." John said proudly, fixing his bright red bow tie. "How did you know?"

"Word spreads like wild fire 'round here." She smiled at him and handed him a paper. "Here's your schedule. You've got World History first, dear. Room 203. Homeroom's already started, so you're a bit late. But no pressure to the new students!"

"Thank you, madame." John gave her a nod before turning out of the office and into the corridor. The floors were white with tiles of color every other step. The lockers were a topaz-ish sort of green, and the ceilings were high. He bounced down the hallway, peering at the locker number on his schedule.

"506," he whispered to himself. "Sounds easy enough!" He glanced at the locker numbers as he walked past. 123, 156, 209... The numbers didn't seem to be in any logical order. John frowned, too busy looking at the numbers to tell where he was going. Soon enough, he was lost in the 1000's, somewhere on the second story. And _still_, there wasn't anyone in sight.

John contemplated whether he should ask for help or not. Then again, who would he ask? John dropped everything on the floor but his schedule. He kept that in his hands, turning it this way and that as if it would tell him how to find his lockers. John huffed and ran a hand through his light brown hair.

"Great," he sighed. _Maybe I should just walk into a lesson and learn whatever they are. I mean, it'll be fun, if nothing else._ Still, this wasn't how John pictured school going.

"Hello, sweetie," a voice said behind him. He whirled around in a panic.

"Sorry!" he cried. "I got lost, I can't find my locker or-" John stopped when he saw that there wasn't a cross professor behind him, but rather a gorgeous young woman. "Oh. Hello."

"I saw you trip at the front of the school." Her ruby-red lips curled into a smile. She had wild, dark blonde curls running down her back, and sparkling hazel eyes, which grazed down John's figure, drinking him in. "You know, one of the things I like about this school is that there isn't a uniform." She remarked.

"Y-Yes. I took the liberty of-"

"Wearing a bow-tie?" She interrupted. "It looks silly. And suspenders?" The girl held out a manicured hand and took hold of one of the cords. "You're funny, aren't you?" She pulled John towards herself before releasing the cord and letting it snap back.

John flushed. "It's meant to be cool. Bow-ties are cool."

"No, they aren't." She said, looking subdued. "Mind you, it does somehow _work _with that outfit. But they're still only as cool as that flippy hair of yours." She held out her hand. "My name's Melody Pond."

John touched the hair hanging down in front of his eyes before slowly taking her hand. "John Smith."

"So, you're lost?" She asked. John nodded nervously.

"Can you help me find locker-" he glanced at the paper, "-506?"

"Of course I _can._" Melody said, rolling her eyes. "But I'm not going to. If you want a locker, just use one of these." She motioned to the row of lockers lining the hall.

"Those all have built-in locks. I don't have the combinations."

"Locks are so overused nowadays." Melody remarked. She turned and twiddled with the lock for a few seconds before it popped open.

"Is that your locker?" John asked. "I couldn't possibly share."

"It's not mine, no. And you don't need to share." Melody reached in the locker, pulling out a stack of books and a fresh, new-looking bookbag. "See? It's all ready, just for you."

"Um..." John bit his lip. This girl was either mad, daft, or downright rude. "I'd rather find my own locker. Thank you, but... I really should be going now."

John turned away from her, cheeks slightly pink. He hurried through the hallway, down the stairs, and threaded through the maze-like hallways until he thought that she wouldn't be able to find him. When he turned around, he sighed in relief – she hadn't been following him.

John looked up. All the corridors were completely identical, and the only thing that told him whether he had been here before or not were the locker numbers. John smiled at the locker straight ahead of him.

"506!" he sang quietly, rapping his knuckles on his very own proper locker. He carefully spun the lock until it opened. The sides of the metal space were bare and slightly rusty, but John still puffed up slightly, a strange sort of pride blossoming in his chest. "Where do I begin?" he muttered, rubbing his hands together and dropping his bookbag. He began to unpack it. Just as he slid his biology textbook on the top shelf, he heard a low whistle. John dropped his book and whipped around, hands held up as if he were going to karate-chop somebody.

"I've never seen someone so excited over a _locker,_" Melody chuckled. John's hands wavered slightly, but he didn't put them down.

"How did you find me?" he demanded.

"You poor little idiot," Melody cooed, ruffling his hair slightly. "You already told me your locker number." She tapped the metal tag on his locker that spelled '506'. "Well, your assigned locker anyway. How dull."

"Unlike you, I like to follow the rules," John said crisply.

"Like I said, dull," Melody said. "Anyway. What's with the karate arms?"

"It's a defensive stance," John said.

"Doesn't look very effective."

"It is, actually. Very effective. Proven to be the most defensive in the world."

Without a word, Melody grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back. She expertly caught his other arm and pulled it backwards. John yelped.

"Liar." Melody released him and folded her arms. John rubbed his shoulder and frowned, a blush burning on his cheeks. He didn't know what to say, and honestly, he was too embarrassed to say anything anyways. Melody simply gave him a piercing stare. She gave him a prolonged, playful simper before she walked away, disappearing around the corner.

Reluctantly, John knelt down to pick up his biology textbook. His cheeks were still flushed, and his mind reeled.

"Melody Pond," he murmured. "You are one strangely captivating girl."


	2. Chapter 2

John closed his locker, finally done organizing it. His books were lined up at the bottom neatly, and he had all of his color-coded binders and notebooks in a stack at the top. His bookbag hung on a hook and he had a complicated magnetic organizer that he prided in labeling, decorating, and filling up methodically.

"What class do I have?" he muttered to himself. He reached into his pocket for his schedule, but nothing was there. John checked his other pocket, but still nothing. Nervous now, he checked his locker, trying not to disturb the order but also searching furiously.

His schedule wasn't there. It was just missing.

At the shrill ring of the bell, the empty corridors began to swell with students. There were people of all kind - couples with matching shirts, laughing groups of friends, and people with noses stuck in a book. All of them were interesting to John, from the people wearing t-shirts to the girls with gloriously applied makeup. John was particularly excited for this aspect of school. It was when the halls were bustling that he had the best opportunity of meeting people.

"Hello!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. A few people threw him strange looks, but he didn't seem bothered or slightly discouraged by that. "Helloooooo!"

"Would you mind quieting down?" someone said behind him in a rushed whisper. John swiveled around to see a boy roughly his height. He had plain brown hair (if not a bit messy), glasses, and light green eyes.

"Hello!" John exclaimed, completely ignoring the boy's request. "And who might you be?"

"Rory," the boy said. He opened the locker beside John's, eyes flicking nervously to his neighbor. "And seriously, quiet down."

"Rory! That's a good name, I like that name. Rory. Roooory." John clicked his tongue and repeated the names a few times. Rory shook his head and looked away, knowing that 'quieting down' was a lost cause. "My name's John. John Smith."

"Hi, John," Rory said, pressing his lips together.

"It's a boring name, I know," John said. "But I can't really help the name I was given. Either way, I think John is classic. Like Bob, or Peter, or Matt."

"I would love to hear more about your name," Rory said, pulling a book from his locker and slamming it shut. "But I should probably be going. Class starts in a minute and a half, now."

"Oh, I know," John said, waving his hand. "What class do you have?"

"Math," Rory sighed, beginning to turn away. "Bye."

"Wait!" John yelled. He spun around and began rummaging through his locker. Although he had just put it in order, he threw everything around until he could grab hold of his math textbook. "Okay! Let's go!" John shut his locker and gave Rory a wide grin.

"So… You have math, too?"

"No, probably not," John said. "But my schedule was stolen, so I guess math is the way to go!"

"Your schedule was stolen?" Rory asked, ripe with disbelief.

"Yes. Which way is math?"

"Who the hell would steal your schedule?" Rory asked.

"Shhhhhh!" John turned around and slapped a hand over Rory's mouth. Although the hallways were slowly emptying, a few people frowned and stopped to look. "You can't curse in a school!" John whispered loudly. Rory swatted his hand away.

"It doesn't matter!" he said. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?!" John furrowed his brow and cocked his head, giving Rory a puppy-like stare.

"Nothing's wrong with me," John said. "Other than the fact that we're about to be late." Rory's sea-foam eyes widened at the exact second that the bell rang.

"Oh my God!" Rory cried.

"It's okay, it's fine," John said. "Today's the first day! They wouldn't be cross for being late on the first day!"

"No, no, you're mistaken," Rory stammered. "It's your first day, not mine. Unlike you, I'm in the middle of my second semester!" Rory swiveled on his heels and began sprinting towards the classroom.

"Oh! Running!" John exclaimed. "I love running! Although, isn't it against the rules to run in the hall?"

"Shut up!" Rory snapped. "It's your fault, you know!" He stopped suddenly and adjusted his shirt.

"Is this it?" John asked, following suit. He watched as Rory turned to a wooden door. He didn't answer, but braced himself and turned the knob.

"You better take the blame for this!" Rory hissed. The door was open just a crack, and-

"RORY WILLIAMS!" a woman's voice bellowed. "What're you so late for?!" John, still standing too far out in the hall to be able to catch a glimpse of the professor's face, stepped back.

"I-I'm sorry," Rory stammered. "It was.. I needed to..."

"Enough excuses! You come in 'ere, right now!"

"No, Ms. Tyler, I was helping a new student!" Rory said. John anxiously stepped closer to the door and peered into the classroom. A slightly large, but in no way fat woman stood staring at him, hands on her hips. She had blonde hair rolled into a bun and violet eye shadow. Despite being a teacher, she wore jeans and a sweatshirt and was dressed more casually than most of the students.

"Hello!" John waved slightly but decided better of it when the teacher, Ms. Tyler, frowned. "Sorry..."

"Who're you, dear?" Ms. Tyler asked. "And Rory, go sit down." Rory began to lace through the desks, which were clumped together in groups.

"My name's John. John Smith," he said, puffing up proudly.

"Okay, John, nice to meet ya," Ms. Tyler said. "Go on, you can sit next to Rory." John smiled brightly and gave her a deep bow. A few snickers resonated around the room, but Ms. Tyler actually looked quite pleased. As John went to go sit down, he almost thought he saw Ms. Tyler _wink _at him. John waved the prospect away. No, he was probably just imagining things.

The wooden desks were splintery and carved with everything from JH hearts EO to obscene words to pentagrams. They seemed to be designed for maximum discomfort, and it showed on John's face when he took his seat beside Rory.

"Oh, great, another fantastic addition to our table," Rory said.

"I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice," an American accent drawled from across the table. John looked at the boy who spoke. Mischievous blue eyes sparkled and his smile glittered. His black hair was styled just enough so that it looked tussled, but not overdone. He wore a dress shirt and pants and had a strange bulky watch on his wrist.

"Shut up, Jack," Rory muttered. 'Jack' looked over to John and gave him a charming grin.

"That's my name," Jack said. "Jack Harkness."

"Hello, Jack Harkness!" John said. He scanned the rest of the table, eyes falling on a blonde girl with chocolate-brown eyes. "And who are you?"

"I'm Rose," the girl said, lifting her eyebrows ever so slightly. "I'm sorry about my mum, by the way."

"Your mum?" John smiled as if he knew what she meant. "No, that's fine. Your mum is perfectly fine."

"No, she's not," Rose said, bordering on the edge of laughing. "My mum is the thing furthest from 'perfectly fine'."

"Oh. Got it," John said. He nodded and leaned close to Rory's ear. "Is she okay? In the head, I mean?" John whispered.

"Of course she is, why wouldn't she be?" Rory asked, looking slightly offended.

"It's not like I'm okay in the head. I mean, I'm not okay at all, really. I'm sort of a madman. Okay, I'm definitely a madman. But-"

"I'd like to interject!" Jack exclaimed. He fiddled with his pen, looking subdued. "Rose's last name is Tyler. Her mom is the teacher." He lifted his chin up at Ms. Tyler at the front of the room, who was in the middle of a [horrible] lecture about the Pythagorean theorem. Jack turned to look at Rose. "That might've been helpful to tell him, sweetie."

"I'm not your sweetie," Rose said, pushing him. "I'm dating Mickey. Remember?"

"Who's Mickey?" John asked, shooting Rose an inquisitive look.

"Mickey," Jack sighed, "is Rose's boyfriend. I asked him out once, but he just said he had his eyes out for somebody else. So, being the rejected mess that I was, I went to Rose and asked her if she wanted to come to my place."

"Which I _still _find absolutely appalling!" Rose said.

"Honestly," Rory said, "I can't believe you would ask out a girl right after being rejected by her boyfriend."

"Hey, I wasn't _rejected_!" Jack shot back. "He was simply too busy with blondie here to spend any time with me." Just as the words left his mouth, Rose slapped him in the back of his head.

"Quiet, you," she said, giggling.

"_Hey!_" Ms. Tyler shouted at them from across the room. "If I hear another word, it's detention for the lot of you!"

"Too late for that," Rose whispered almost inaudibly. "Living with her is detention enough." The entire table snickered softly.

"What did I just say?" Ms. Tyler folded her arms and stared crossly, eyes scanning over the four of them.

"Sorry, Miss," Jack said.

"Were you listening to anything I just said?"

"Of course!" Jack scoffed, lifting his hands up as if it were obvious. "The whole thing!"

"Really? Then take a stab at this," Ms. Tyler drew a triangle on the board and labeled two of the side lengths. "How long's this one?" Ms. Tyler tapped the hypotenuse with her stick of chalk and rose her eyebrows expectantly.

"It's... Um..." Jack licked his lips. He looked down at the desk and tapped his fingers on the wood.

"That's what I thought," Ms. Tyler said, turning back to the board.

They listened quietly for the rest of class, only stopping to whisper when John had important questions (like what Rose's favorite ice cream flavor was, or how had Jack done his hair so nicely). When the bell rang, they practically bolted out the door.

Jack and Rose had to go their separate ways, but both John and Rory decided to make a stop at their lockers.

"What class do you have now?" John asked. "I hope it's art class. Or English. Ooh! Is it science class?"

"No, it's economics," Rory replied. John's eyes lost their twinkle and he made a strange face.

"Eugh. I hate economics," John said. "Is there a textbook for it?" They stopped at their lockers. Rory opened his fluidly and dropped his math book straight in. John kept fiddling with his lock.

"No, but you have to take a lot of notes," he said. John nodded distractedly. He pulled on his lock, but it wouldn't open. "Do you need any help?" Rory offered.

"No, I've got it," John tried again, and once more, before letting his hands drop down. "Something's happened to my lock!"

"What's your combination?" Rory asked. He set his binders and notebook on the floor.

"3 – 21 – 13," John said. Rory turned the dial to 3, but stopped midway.

"Did you put this here?" he asked, frowning.

"Put what where?"

"This note," Rory crouched down. "See?" John knelt beside him. Tucked inside the small locker handle was a folded scrap of paper.

"No, I didn't put that there," John muttered. He pulled the paper out of the handle and opened it up. _**'Hello, Sweetie'**_ was written in long, curly letters.

"Weird. Do you have an admirer already?" Rory asked. John shook his head.

"No, of course not!" he said. "I haven't met anyone except you, Jack, and Rose." He didn't like lying. He didn't like it one bit. But he would rather lie than tell Rory about Melody.

"Hey, John," Rory said, standing up. "I hate to leave you, but... I don't want to be late again."

"That's fine," John said. "Go ahead."

"Sorry," Rory said. "Bye!" John didn't so much as glance when Rory left, or when the bell rang to signal the start of class. He simply stood up, holding the note in his hand and biting his lip. The hallways were completely empty. Or...

"Melody?" John asked. He looked around, knowing that she had to be there somewhere. "Melody, please."

"Hi, John," a voice purred directly behind him. Startled, John circled around. He was met with gloriously light green eyes and a half-smirk of ruby red lipstick.

"Me-Melody," John's voice caught halfway through. "Hi."

"You got my note?" She asked, smiling innocently.

"Yes," John said, a bit more composed. "And I also got my lock messed up. What did you do to it?" Melody pressed her lips together and looked down, almost in a disappointed way.

"You do realize that schools change the combinations every summer, right?" she asked.

"Kind of. Well, yeah."

"It's not that difficult to reset the lock and change it to a different combination." Melody said.

"You changed my combination?!"

"No," Melody's eyelashes fluttered and she began to spin the lock. "I changed _our _combination."

"You-" John said. "What?" The locker swung open to reveal that it had been completely changed. The magnetic organizer no longer housed highlighters and index cards, but lipstick, eyeliner, and mascara instead. The notebooks and binders on top had been crammed in the bottom, so that a pair of red pumps could sit comfortably alongside designer sunglasses.

"Isn't it nice?" she asked, turning to look at John. He didn't answer, not even when Melody started playing with a strand of his hair. "I rearranged it to fit both of our needs."

"I bet," he said, pausing to gulp. "That you're the one who took my schedule, too." Melody just simpered and handed him a piece of paper.

"We've got chemistry next," she said.


End file.
